


Cut to the End

by Retro_Reactive



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Hair Stylist AU, I wondered how Zukos hair ended up so perfect, Iroh saves the day with a tea tray, considering he cut it with a knife, solution he styled it himself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5891185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Retro_Reactive/pseuds/Retro_Reactive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his mother, Zuko discovers his natural talent for cutting hair. Armed with scissors, he takes his talent to the streets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cut to the End

**Author's Note:**

> Don't one avatar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost mostly all my other chapters I did, so decided I am going to redo this story. The story will be updated every two weeks. Maybe every week if I feel motivated.

The first time Zuko cut hair, it was an act of anger, grief and rebellion. A metaphorical fuck you to the world. 

His father was the CEO of ‘The Fire Corporation’ a company that manufactures and exports over 40% of the world weapons and military equipment. With this status came the extravagant and elaborate parties, cars and houses. Private planes and people willing to wait in his every need. But everything he did and said was being watched every action questioned and broken down. Everyone was waiting for him to screw up so they could swoop in and act like it was their business.

His life was not all glamour and luxury, tabloids and magazines blew everything out of proportion, like hyenas they would smell the slightest hint of gossip and came running trying to tear there way in and take you for all your worth. Its no wonder that paparazzi meant buzzing mosquito.

The constant observation and judgement ensured that every word from his mouth was monitored and watched by not only the camera happy press, but by his own father. Every action and word planned, all so that his father could save face. His father was more made than born, an immovable face always set into a frown and a hard exterior, he never allowed anything to move him.

His mother on the other hand was perfect, where his father was formalities and work, she was all warmth and love. Sometimes Zuko couldn't help but wondered how they ended up together. They were like day and night, complete opposites in personality and countenance. The only thing they had in common were that the had the same children. Even their tempers were vastly different. While his father was quick to anger with a cold rage that seemed to both burn and freeze you, his mother was like a volcano, a sudden explosion of righteous indignation, but only to those that threatened those she loved. 

He is not supposed to play favorites, but without a doubt, Zuko loved his mother more. It was probably why he was affected so badly when she got sick.

In the beginning she wasn’t too bad, she tended to get tired and had to rest a lot more than she used to, but she was still full of life. Sometimes she seemed to be healthy enough that Zuko could believe she was getting better, he could delude himself into the belief that nothing was wrong with her. 

Those delusions were always shattered though when she collapsed. His father spent most of his time at work, coming home only when she was asleep and leaving before anyone woke up. His uncle said that his father just loved her so much that he didn’t want to see her like that. Zuko personally thought that it was total bullshit. ‘Till death do us part’ wasn’t that the vow, but his father was apart from her long before that. 

His mothers sickness also changed his sister, she was always more like their father and like him she threw herself into her studies. I see now that it was in preparation to take the company from their father. He was the oldest, therefore he would have inherited the company, but most of his time was spent with at his mothers side, thus his studies were affected. It probably wasn't what his mother would have wanted for him, but Zuko couldn’t just act like nothing was wrong. 

His father later named his sister as his successor. Zuko was hurt that his father dropped him so quickly, but in truth he didn’t really care. He had no interest in running a the company, even if it was worth billions.

Zuko never knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. His mother was patient and let him decide for himself, but when, after years of fighting she finally passed away, he lost his way. That was when he cut his hair, changing it from a neat and tidy ponytail to a choppy mop. 

The funeral was a morbid affair, his mother hated black clothes and rain, but like a typical cliche, that was all he saw. His father was no where to be seen, said he had important business at the company to finish. His sister was still at her boarding school half way across the country. 

Many distant relative were there, talking about how much they would miss her, and that she was a great women, but none of these people knew her. Only his uncle Iroh and himself knew who she really was, but neither him or his uncle got the opportunity to talk, everyone else clambered to become the centre of attention on a day that was not theirs. 

Afterwards it was nothing more than a blur, everyone doing everything to get his attention. He hated his fathers wealth, it was situations like these that showed him the world was only after money. They all crowded him like he was a prized show pony cooing to him and coddling him. 

Like he would be so weak as to lean on any of these gold diggers for support, but from the way he was playing with his mothers necklace that was wrapped around his neck a simple blue arrow, he wouldn’t doubt that he looked slightly childlike.

He was numb when his uncle took him by the elbow and lead him to the car, numb when they drove away and traveled towards home, numb when they pulled into the driveway of his too big mansion. He could remember nothing but being put into his bed and held by his uncle as he finally let the tears fall. 

Zuko hated himself at that moment, his whole life was so structured yet chaotic that he couldn’t even shed tears for his Mother in public. 

Zuko woke up to the rich aromatic smell of tea, and the disgusting smell of burnt bacon; his uncle could make tea with random leaves he found on the floor, but when it came to cooking, the man couldn’t boil water. It was strange considering that boiled water was one of the biggest component of tea.

Rolling over he looked at himself in the mirror and was taken aback by his appearance. His eyes were puffy and red, and there were large dark circles under them.he had dark circle His usually well kept hair was dishevelled and uneven. It wasn’t the sight of his face that made him falter though, it was his hair. His mother loved his hair, she used to say that it was as soft as silk, and even when she got sick, she would still take time to run her fingers through it. Zuko could never figure out why she did it. Maybe she did just like the feel like she said. Maybe it was to comfort him in their months together. Zuko likes to believe that it was a source of comfort for her just as much as it was for him.

It was that thought that made him act, strolling into the bathroom, he shoved his head under the tap and turned the water on. When his hair was wet he sat back, grabbed the scissor from the top draw and began to cut, his hair falling into the sink with a small wet splat. He didn’t know what he was doing, all he knew was that his hair had to be presentable he didn’t want that mop on his head anymore. He still doesn’t know how he did it, but his hair turned out exactly how he visualised. The hairstyle was simple, the fringe sat above his eyes and framed his face, the sides and back brushing his shoulders neatly. The style made his gold eyes stand out and enunciated his cheekbones, where once his face looked round, it was now angular with a defining jaw and strong nose.

When he got downstairs, his uncle was already at the middle counter sipping on his tea. A plate of burnt bacon beside him, untouched and cooling. He loved his uncle for thinking of him, but if he himself wouldn’t eat what he cooked, why did he expect Zuko too.

Iroh looked up at Zuko and in a matter of moments, his expression went from calm and relaxed, to surprised. 

“Zuko what happened to your hair?”. His voice sounded sceptic, as if he could not believe what he was seeing.

Zuko reached up and fingered a lock of hair, embarrassment overweighing the lingering anguish from his mothers death. Zuko liked it, but he can’t say the same about everyone.

“Does it look that bad?” Zuko asked, reaching to his necklace and twirling it between two fingers. 

“No, I just didn’t expect it” Iroh added, trying to reassure Zuko. From Zuko’s exclamation of ‘oh’ Iroh didn’t think he had succeeded, so he tried a different approach.

“Could you do mine?” Iroh added with a chuckle, the support and care for his nephew clear in his eyes. His comment caused Zuko to join him, and both uncle and nephew began to laugh. Zuko was reassured by the fact that at least someone he loved would stick around. Not that he would ever tell anyone.

Zuko could still remember it as if it was yesterday, that was the first day of the rest of his life, the last months of his old life, just the beginning, it may sound cliche, but it was this cliche that described his life now compared to then.

Thrown out of the family business, he was expected to marry into a rich family, the stuck up rich kid from a neighbouring country. His father and the companies owner Gyatso have a love, hate relationship. Meaning that they loved to hate each other, but since they were on equal footing in the business world, they needed an edge that would help them do that. The edge, take over from the inside and the business engagement would have done just that, but Zuko was tired of being a pawn in his fathers game. The solution, strike out on his own. It was only natural that he would open a hair salon, considering his obvious natural talent for it. 

Opening his own shop had been easy, Zuko had been taught to run a business since before he could walk. The biggest problem was getting people to come, but his uncle helped with that, considering he wasn’t lacking when it came to a social life. Red hot styles, it was the name of his salon. At the beginning he was a worried about the place being swamped by the media, all wanting to snap photos and hear the story of the disgraced son of a business tycoon, cutting hair is a backwater suburb of the town that his father practically owned. But his father probably lined pockets to stop the bad publicity.

In the beginning, the only people that came in were the elderly and people wanting nothing more than a trim, it took him a while before he could truly cut anyones hair, longer before people began to book appointments. 

Now he was so swamped with requests, people began to get angry about the long wait, they waited but they didn’t like it. He was considering hiring someone else to help him, he didn’t want to, didn’t trust anyone to assist him with his new passion, but he knew that eventually people would stop coming, instead turning to another hairdresser’s that had more staff and could get them through then out the door faster that he ever could.

This debate went on in his head for weeks, and out of everyone, the only one who noticed was his uncle. That might have been because no one else ever visited him. True to every other decision Zuko had made in the 11 months since the funeral, his uncle was supportive of his choices.

It was a few weeks later that Zuko had finally set aside his pride and drawn up a sign advertising that a position was open, he did’t trust anyone to help him cut hair, and although the work load wasn’t overly large, the discontent of his customers was affecting his morale. Walking from his office and towards the front of his shop, he stopped at the sight that greeted him. His uncle serving tea to his customers on a tea tray, the scowl that were usually present on their faces no where to be seen. Instead smiles of content were the only forthcoming emotions, no one was checking their watches and no one was muttering about it taking to long. Everyone was quiet, sipping there tea out of plain old mugs.

Iroh turned around and when he noticed Zuko, a smile lit up his face and a twinkle of mischief could be seen in his eyes. 

“I thought you could use some help” his uncle answered Zuko’s unasked question.

Zuko couldn’t believe that his uncle would go this far to help him. Saying he would help him was one thing, but doing it was a completely different thing.

Looking down at the plain sign in his hand Zuko looked back at his uncle, and gave him his answer.

“If you must”, he said in a huff, as if the very idea was insane, the comment was softened by the smile on Zuko’s face.

With that, Zuko clenched his fist and scrunched the paper into a ball, and as he made his way forward, dropped it in the bin.


End file.
